


The Act

by VannaVamp



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Abuse, M/M, Mental Cruelty, Parent/Child Incest, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-18
Updated: 2011-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-19 13:10:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VannaVamp/pseuds/VannaVamp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To anyone else his father's words might have sounded not unlike normal parental concern. And how he wished they were. But he knew better. Horror stricken, he also knew with a keen sense of dread what was going to happen next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Act

**Author's Note:**

> For adults only: AU. Very dark and angsty - includes rape, mental and physical torture, abuse, incest, reference to past child abuse, and some swearing.
> 
> Xander is 16, and still at school, though he is also working part-time and living in the basement; his mother is dead. Spike is not living with him, in fact Spike isn't around at all at present (he might make an appearance in a possible sequel).

Xander's head throbbed. He'd taken a good beating earlier, defending Willow against a particularly large and vicious demon. It had beaten him almost senseless, but his injury had been more than worthwhile to save his friend and distract the demon long enough for Buffy to finish it off. 

He'd assured them both he was okay and made his way home, in dire need of a good rest and time to recuperate. 

It seemed like his pounding head had barely touched the pillow when his father had appeared, stinking of beer and shaking him back into an all too reluctant state of wakefulness.

"Where the hell've you been 'til now, boy?! You're not gonna come waltzing in here any time of the day or night, do you hear?!"

Xander listened, resigned. To anyone else his father's words might have sounded not unlike normal parental concern. And how he wished they were. But he knew better. Horror stricken, he also knew with a keen sense of dread what was going to happen next. He could try fighting it, but he'd tried that before, and was always the loser. He stood no chance against his father's larger, more powerful body. Also, he was only too aware his wrists had already been securely bound to the top of the bed frame. 

He thought he'd been quiet enough to get into the basement unnoticed, but of course... this had precious little to do with how much noise he made, or the time of night he arrived home. His father had been waiting for him, ready to find any excuse for Xander's 'punishment'. Not that he really needed one. It was all part of the 'fun'. An act. Some sadistic game that no doubt gave the sick fuck a perverse sense of pleasure.

Except that Xander was far from being a willing participant - for all that was worth. He never got to have his say. Never would either.

... _Eyes being covered_. _Not allowed to watch_. As if somehow that made it alright. It didn't, but he was glad he didn't have to see all the same - 

didn't have to see his father preparing. Hastily taking his own clothes off; then tearing Xander's from him until he lay exposed and naked, thoroughly helpless, and so very, very vulnerable. 

He could hear the man though, and knew what was going to happen. Didn't have to see to know the sheer, unadulterated horror of what was about to happen to him. 

Again.

His heart racing, the terrified youth was all too aware when his father joined him on the bed. He tried to pull away when he felt a large, clumsy hand close over his nose, and smelt the familiar, overwhelming stench of stale beer - something that always made him feel like throwing up, forcing him reflexively to open his mouth for air. He took in a mere half-breath before the larger man forced his cock into Xander's _his son's_ mouth.

"Suck it, boy. Do it good, like I told you, and no biting or I'll knock your teeth out and make you do it anyway".

He obeyed. Anything to get it over with; at the same time instinctively testing his bonds. Hopeless... it was hopeless. His father always made a 'good' job of tying Xander up. _Bastard_. 

And then the wooden bed-frame creaked ominously, drawing the older man's attention to his struggle. Xander stilled his hands instantly, silently praying that his slight movement had gone unnoticed. 

The boy knew his prayers had gone unanswered as his father's engorged cock slipped from his mouth - except that for a fleeting moment nothing more happened and he thought he'd actually got away with it. The realisation that he had not followed in the next instant, with a sudden shock of pain, as Xander became a human punch-bag. He gasped for breath, taking punches to his face and jaw until he was punch-drunk, his head spinning. 

Cuts were opened, old cuts were re-opened. He was bruised and battered. Defenceless. 

Beaten.

"Concentrate, boy! Come on, you know you like it. You love it, don't you boy? Tell me you want it? TELL ME."

"And you already know what else I want to hear you say, so what you waiting for? Do it!" Xander sobbed. This was his part of the act. The part he hated most.

More punches. Stomach, chest, head, face. He was a mass of pain. More cuts. Bruises on bruises. No. Oh god, NO. 

"I...I want it, d-daddy".

It was barely a whisper, but it was enough. 

"There's my good boy. And you know what? You're gonna get it too."

Tears of anger and frustration, hurt and pain wetted the blood-stained blindfold. He hated himself for saying those words. Yet he knew that ultimately he had no choice. He would have said them anyway sooner or later. And sooner meant less chance of serious injury.

The larger man's cock, wet with pre-come was forced back inside Xander's mouth, hitting the back of his throat, making him gag against the intrusion. A slap, hard enough to make his already sore face burn like an inferno reminded him to get on with it. 

Suck, lick. _Hate_.

The older Harris reached a violent orgasm, moaning as he sank his full body weight even more heavily onto his son's slighter frame. Forcing him to swallow, then pulling out of the pretty boy's hot little mouth and creaming his face, thoroughly, "that's my good boy. You look just like the whore I know you are...just like your mother used to be."

Xander felt himself being turned; felt the ropes around his wrists twist, and tighten even more uncomfortably. He tried to stop it, tried to dig his heels into the tangled bed sheets, but he was on his stomach almost before he knew it, and...oh god, no. Please, not that. A blow job had been enough for the man for the past few weeks, and Xander thought with intense relief that that was how it was going to be from then on. His heart sank.

"On your knees boy, come on. Move it!" The youth hesitated for a moment, "p-please daddy, d-don't do this anymore. P-please, d-daddy?!", his voice was stuttering and broken with intense fear, horror and an overwhelming sense of dread.

"What did you

say boy? Fucking stupid kid, not even bright enough to talk so's a person can understand you. 'P-please d-daddy', what?", he mocked in a childlike voice, and for a split second, Xander thought he was going to be allowed to speak; he opened his mouth, then screamed in agony as a lighted cigarette burned his ass, followed by the force of a belt strap brought down on him repeatedly, each blow accompanied by a low grunt from the older man.

"Ass up, NOW, Alexander, or it's gonna get a whole lot worse." Defeated, Xander pulled himself onto his knees and raised his ass in the air. God, how he hated to be called 'Alexander' - it always made him think of his father doing _this_ to him...making him feel like the pathetic, completely useless waste of space he knew he was. Except as a whore... and he'd had years of practice at perfecting that - thanks to his father. 

But whores were supposed to get paid, weren't they? Not this one though. 'Alexander' was the one who paid - every fucking cent he earned - for the dubious 'privilege' of living in the basement from hell and being regularly raped and assaulted by his own father. And the bastard knew he couldn't afford to move out, never would be able to either, as long as he was forced to hand over his full wage packet every single week. 

He'd saved a small amount from tips and bought himself a strong bolt once, and been very thankful of it when it stopped the older man from getting in, until he caught Xander one night and beat him almost senseless. Stood over him and forced him to unscrew the bolt from the door, then fucked him and beat him so cruelly that his body was covered in open cuts and he was sore for a fortnight. 

He'd been so relieved when his friends blindly accepted his excuses with no argument; they knew he was clumsy, and always getting injured by the demon of the day, so it was easy enough to convince them. "Oh look what Xander's done to himself again!" All he'd have to do would be to summon up one of his famous grins, and they'd move on to the next subject. It was that easy, thankfully... 

Yet at the same time he 

sometimes longed for his friends to look beyond the grin. For just one of them to notice something... _anything_ of the suffering that always overshadowed him. Particularly Willow, his so-called 'best' friend, or Giles, the 'responsible' adult. But no; he was their clown... their donut boy, and none too bright either. Xander knew and accepted that that was his role within the group. It hurt, and he couldn't deny that it hurt, except... they made him feel almost like a normal teenager, or as normal as it was possible to be, living in Sunnyhell; and he wanted to be normal, more than anything.

He was trapped every which way, and he knew it. He couldn't get away without money, and he couldn't report the bastard to the police, much as he wanted to - not without everyone he knew knowing what he was; what he'd allowed his own father to do to him... and the shame of that would be even more unbearable than the rapes.

His ass cheeks spread, the youth felt the all too familiar intrusion of his father's cock forcibly, agonisingly pushing it's way inside him, then pounding away, tearing delicate tissue until he could feel the blood running down his legs. He had tried not to cry, knowing the effect it would have on his father, but the excruciating pain of being entered with no prior preparation, had made him scream tears of sheer agony. The man was rock-hard again, turned on by the violence he had so generously inflicted on his son.

"Come on boy, push back against me...that's right. Feels real good, to have my cock inside you, don't it?...DON'T it?

Xander felt sick to his stomach. The blow jobs were bad enough, but he had learnt to put up with being forced to do them, for all that it went against the grain. Being fucked... by his own father was something else again. Something he had never accepted in any way, and it always made him feel violently ill - every time. 

And then the older man reached for Xander's cock, determined to stimulate it until it hardened - no matter how long it took, except that it angered him if it took very long. The youth never felt less turned on in his life than when his father was forcing him... but the beatings he got for a slow reaction to the stimulation made him try to think sexy thoughts...Buffy and Cordelia in tight micro-mini skirts and low-cut tops... try to block out his father and what he was doing, completely. For the sake of his sanity.

"That's right...I _know_ you enjoy this, no matter how much you say no. Always have, right from the first time when your mother had her 'accident', ain't you? Tell me how good it feels, boy."

Instantly filled with an overwhelming sense of guilt, Xander's mind went back to the first time his father had assaulted him, when he was just eight years old, and filled with a level of fear no eight year old should ever have to experience. He'd screamed, terrified, and as a result had been responsible for his mother's death. She had rushed to her child's room to see what terrible thing had upset him so greatly, and backed out in shock, horrified that her husband could do _that_ to their beautiful young son. Then, momentarily forgetting where she was, she had fallen down the stairs, breaking her neck, instantly and fatally. His father always said it had been Xander's fault, and he knew the man was right; that he deserved the abuse. A vicious punch in the side that made him yelp in pain reminded him that an answer was expected of him.

It felt intrusive, invading. Unwanted and unwelcome in the extreme, but he knew what his reply should be, unless he wanted more punishment, and his body could take no more. "It feels...g-good, daddy." The words were empty... devoid of all feeling except fear and pain; spoken because a response had been physically demanded as part of the act, and to avoid further pain. No other reason. 

Xander prayed again, to a god he'd prayed to for most of his life but had long since ceased to believe in, that his reply would suffice. He could take no more pain; the demon had taken every ounce of his strength, and now his father was using up the very last of the reserves he didn't know he possessed. He needed what little he had left to get through this without any further punishment. Just surviving and staying on his knees despite the pressure of his father's weight bearing down on him was effort enough now.

The youth gasped as the man suddenly pulled his cock all the way out of him, totally disregarding the additional pain the action had caused his son, and, quickly turned him again, loosening the blindfold, and lifting his leaden legs. Hastily, he plunged his cock deeply back inside the boy, tearing tissue that had so far remained relatively unscathed. Xander cried out in renewed and bitter torment, every iota of it etched across his pained features. The older man stared, enjoying the sight to the full, having removed the blindfold specially - something which also served to give his boy the full benefit of his cruel, lust-crazed smirk.

Xander turned his head away, unable to bear his father's sadistic grin any longer. He wanted the blindfold back - to be able to detach himself from this, in some small way. To retain an atom of dignity. "Oh no, you're not gonna miss out on this, son. Besides, I wanna see that 'pretty boy' face of yours", and his face was roughly, forcibly pulled back to the fore. A punch making sure it stayed put.

"Yeah, you can't get enough of my big cock in your tight little ass can you, Alexander?" And somewhere amidst an agonised haze, Xander's heart sank to an all time low. Was he to respond again? Because he didn't think he could bear to. Not again. "Gonna really give it to you now boy; gonna make you worship the ground I walk on", he sneered, choosing to ignore the tortured whimpers of his victim.

And then the older man was stimulating his guilt-ridden son's now flaccid cock again... it seemed that the rape, torture and ritual humiliation of his own child were not enough to satisfy him - Xander was to be spared nothing; he was going to be made to take an active part - like it or not. He moaned, hurting intensely, as his rape went on, seemingly endlessly. His father always liked to take his own sweet time when fucking Xander, and unfortunately for the boy, he was one drunk who could drink what he liked and still remain in control of his bodily functions. Alcohol even seemed to make him last longer.

Xander was visibly flinching as his father's cock continued to pound deeply inside him, and still the man was stimulating him, internally now, as he brushed against his prostate. The teen gasped as a wave of unwanted pleasure went straight to his cock, and he felt it stiffen, against his will. Nausea threatened to overwhelm him, and he had to fight back a renewed urge to throw up. His father had forced him to experience pleasure, even as he was brutally raping him - something h

e had never done to Xander before, and, shocked to the core, the boy questioned his own sanity. Had the years of abuse finally gotten to him?! What kind of a sick pervert was he, Xander Harris, to get so turned on even as his own father was raping him?! 

Sheer weight of pain, added to by a sharp slap brought the boy back to himself as the man on top of him neared his climax. He was shuddering now, every time his father's cock touched him in _that_ spot. "Oh yeah Alexander, move with me, son...oh god, yeah!" And Xander screamed as the man's cock became, impossibly, unbearably, even more rigid, and he felt his insides being coated in semen. 

Someone in the distance was sobbing pitifully; howling with pain, and as realisation gradually dawned he knew that it was himself. He felt disgusting, covered with come - _his father's come_ \- inside and out, and he knew, as he had always known, ever since his father had begun to serially rape his young son, all those years ago, that he would never again be clean. Not as long as he lived. 

The man got off him after what seemed an eternity, and the teen's legs sank down flat on the bed. Xander turned onto his side to increase the circulation and ease the strain on his tied, twice-turned wrists, unable to gather enough strength to turn fully. He closed his eyes against the tears that stung them, no longer caring what his father thought, but wanting to shut him out all the same. Wanting to plead to be untied, desperate to deal with his raging hard on; yet at the same time, thoroughly ashamed of himself for getting turned on in such a way, and willing it to disappear.

The older man turned him roughly, until he was on his back again, then teasingly stroked the boy's obvious erection, grinning at him sadistically as he did so, as if it were a prize he'd won. "Well... you sure are a tempting sight, boy, but I reckon I've about had my fill of you fer the time being. Now just hold on a minute..."

Xander released the breath he didn't know he was holding, thankful beyond belief that nothing more was expected of him. He waited, eyes still closed, for his wrists to be released, but instead he heard a strange mechanical whirring. The teen opened his eyes, reflexively, to see the older man pointing a video camera at him, his face fixed in a cruel leer. "Smile, Alexander! That's my good boy, smile for daddy!"

Stunned, Xander turned away from this new means of torture, sobbing out one single agonised word. "Why?!"

"Call it insurance - you were willing, after all, you said so yourself, and your cock seems to have liked it. Oh, I'm probably gonna watch it for my own amusement too...maybe even get myself tempted enough to do it again," the older man laughed cruelly. "Strange you didn't hear it before, but I guess it wasn't so close up then... that, or you had other things to think about! Now, I'm gonna untie you, and you're gonna bring yourself off for me, like a good boy, while I film you... unless you'd rather I left you all tied up and helpless like...?"

It was more than he could bear - one final act of torture for him to endure. He wanted to tell his father to go fuck himself, but he knew he'd have to do it. Having already tried, he knew there was no way he'd ever be able to untie the expertly tied knots; he'd be lying there, naked, tied and covered in come until someone turned up to see why he hadn't shown up at the next Scooby meeting, that's if he was missed at all. Resigned, he agreed to his father's demands, and, feeling like the cheap whore that he knew he was, he brought himself off as the older man lustfully filmed him, tears slowly falling from his eyes.

Finally, the man was gone, and Xander was left to recover. He ran to the shower and let the hot, soothing water run down his face and body, until every trace of come was gone; then he turned so that it ran down his back. He looked down, as the water turned red with his blood, and he cried. He cried the tears of someone who had suffered years of abuse, at the hands of his own parent. He barely noticed as the water became cooler, and finally ran cold. He just wanted to be clean - knew he never would be, but he had to try all the same.

Physically and mentally drained, and shaking with shock and cold, he returned to the bed he had such a short time ago been tied to. It bore the full evidence of what he'd been through - sheets covered in blood and come. Too tired to do much about it, the boy pulled the sheets off, and allowed himself to fall onto the bare mattress, and still shivering, he cried himself into an exhausted sleep.

End.


End file.
